Convicted
by Starlight Curse
Summary: She lived in a world where people like her, people who had powers beyond the believable, were brought to death because of their differences. He was raised by the ones who enforced the sickening rule... and was the one who killed them. HBD Fallen Jewels!


TWO-SHOT.

Thought I'd just write up a little thing to celebrate the birthday of **Fallen Jewels**! :D

Happy birthday, Julie! :) You should know this is also a thanks for everything you've done for me, and I probably shouldn't cheat you with only one fic dedication, but I love you nonetheless and you are my writing hero :)

Please go wish her the best birthday ever! (She's turning fourteen, so you know.)

I hope that, despite its darkness, you like it :)

* * *

Part 1 - Fire

"Hyuuga-san, it's time."

In the corner of the dark room, she could see where the teenage boy sat motionlessly on the hard chair, his face blank and movement lacking, yet hearing her words, he stilled even more. "A minute, Usami. Give me a minute."

She nodded and stepped out of the room.

When Wakako Usami had first seen him years before, he was so breathtakingly attractive that she had immediately fallen in line with all of his other admirers. He had dark, almost black, ruffled hair and the most alluring and haunting crimson eyes she had ever seen. Though he never hinted any interest, his fangirls were always growing by the minute.

But that was before she was employed to work near him.

Wakako let out a deep sigh and turned back to the steel door to his chambers, the counted minute already up. She knew how he felt about his '_job_.' She knew that, even though he said nothing about it to the press or even the people he worked with, Natsume Hyuuga wasn't a fan of the task that had been his ever since he turned fourteen.

Their routine proved that fact enough.

She knocked again. The door cracked open and Natsume stood like a statue at the door before he growled, "Step back," and pushed roughly by her, heading down the long hallways dimly lit with fiery torches, the clicking of his shoes the only noise in the stone corridors.

As soon as he turned the corner, gone from eyesight and unable to hear her, she slumped on the ground and buried her head in her hands.

Her breathing hitched and for the millionth time that week, Wakako Usami wondered why in hell she had ever wanted this job.

-x-

_Damn_.

Natsume watched from the corner of his eyes as the small girl wept helplessly, fighting every muscle in his body from running over to free her as the tall man in black continued to rant off accusations against someone he personally found innocent. The muscles in his body strained to keep the stoic mask on his face that had been there ever since he could remember.

Like he remembered how futile it was to stand up for the convicted.

Just defending an accused friend had gotten him an extra week of punishment, only added to the fact that, even though he hadn't been the one to do it, Natsume was still forced to sit and watch as the only other Burner in their wicked country set fire to one of his few friends. He had struggled and yelled but the guards kept him shackled.

The day Kokoro Yome had died was the last day Natsume had ever shown any emotion.

Now he sat in the same room he had been forced to attend ever since even before the job was his, the very room he had learned to despise more than anything else in the entire world, and the only thing he could do was watch the small pink-haired girl cry.

"Guilty," the judge said coolly as soon as Persona had finished reciting his 'proof.'

A gasp went through the room but no one dared to speak. The stands were full of people and yet not a single soul protested. Some people cried yet not a person came to the girl's defense—not even the friends of the small girl who stood solemnly in the stands. She gave another choked cry and pleaded them for mercy.

But the man behind the podium only once nodded at the guard, who took the signal and clamped a hard hand on the girl's wrists, dragging her over to the large wooden beam that stuck tall out of the center stage. It was ironic, really, how something made for such brilliance was used for such cruelty.

It was just sad how he was a part of it.

"Natsume," Persona commanded. It was the signal he hadn't been waiting for, but it had its purpose and it was just as well. Clenching his fists in a way no one could see, he walked past the stands and towards the stage that had always been his.

By the time Natsume reached the girl, she was already chained on the beam. Her cheeks were stained with tears as the accused always were, and her blue eyes were wide and innocent, her cries so small that it made her seem so much younger than she already was. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end under the hatred in the scrutiny of the bystanders' glares, but he had been taught to ignore them. To dismiss them.

But that didn't mean he didn't feel them.

Kuonji – the man behind the desk and the one person Natsume had ever hated more than Persona – stood and hit the desk to order silence to the sobs. "Today on the tenth of September, I declare Anna Umenomiya guilty of practicing witchcraft, a crime punishable by death. Any objections from hereon will be considered invalid."

Silence fell. The guard stepped back. Persona nodded. Kuonji pretended to flip a switch.

There was a scream.

And Natsume Hyuuga stood motionlessly in front of the girl as she continued to burn to ash, in a fire that was of his own creation, for an atrocity he knew had never been her fault.

-x-

"Hyuuga-san, Persona wants to see you."

"Leave, Usami. I know the drill."

-xox-

Thud. Whip. CRASH.

"You are a disgrace, you know that, Hyuuga?" The girl whipped out her hands out to slap him again, but it was her who flinched when he didn't even move. "You kill and kill and somehow you can get away with hurting innocent people, and you don't even have to decency to weep for them!"

The dirt market streets were crowded, making a circle around what they hoped to be a fight. Across from him, the green-haired girl glared resentfully at him, teeth bared and contrastingly clear tears gushing down her cheeks.

Natusme stared back blankly as she clawed at him again.

"Do you even have a heart?" Sumire lashed out again. Again. And again he didn't move. "Do you even feel any pain?" She screeched once more before dropping to the floor, her head falling between her knees. "Why would you do that? You killed one of my best friends – how can you seem so calm?" Her screams turned to sobs but in the circle that stood watching, only one ran up to comfort her.

His eyes were still cold as he looked down at her, his face scarred with scratches from the Sumire's attacks. The crowd that had gathered to watch were both awed and disgusted by his lack of emotion, and even more put out that he didn't react to their pitying stares.

Sumire Shouda hiccupped as she looked up at him, her green eyes a mixture of hatred and loss. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do that? How could you kill such a sweet girl like Anna? She never did anything wrong!"

Nothing. Nothing at all.

"The only strong action she ever made was against you horribly sickening _bastards_, because she had the courage to stand up against the foul accusations you made! Because you _killed_ the one boy who could make us smile through all this crap!"

"Sumire-chan—"

"Not now, Nonoko!" she snapped at her comforting friend, before turning her blazing green eyes back on Natsume. "You remember him, don't you? Koko? He was _your_ friend as well. He always told us you weren't such a bad guy, that in the end you always knew right from wrong. He said to give you a chance. But you didn't save him!" Sumire jumped up as if to hit him again, but her hands stayed clenched at her sides. "He was your friend and you didn't save him!"

This time Natsume's eyes flashed with an unidentified emotion, briefly but it was there.

The girl plowed on now that she received some sort of reaction. "You're such a bastard, Hyuuga. You've been a murderer since you were fourteen. Two years now. Even before that, you were still cold and yet some people chose to stick by you." She laughed, a sad, almost broken laugh. "I remember I used to admire you. You were so full of confidence and straightforward and I could always count on you for the truth."

Silence surrounded them. No one dared to speak but her.

"What happened then, Hyuuga? Your family died when you were ten and I felt sorry for you, I really did, but then you resort to this? To punishing other people with deaths as well? Is that what you want? To make other people feel your loss?" Sumire stopped. She shook her head. "Now we have – we all have. And are you happy?"

Beside her, Nonoko looked nervously between the two. "Sumire-chan—"

"Are you, Hyuuga? Tell me there's still a speck of that person I used to admire in there, that there's even a chance that Koko was right and you really do mean well, and I'll walk away. Convince me, Hyuuga, that there's something worth waiting for."

The crowd was silent. Natsume stood there for what seemed like an eternity before he stepped forward. He took another step past Sumire, and another after that, and soon he was totally out of the circle of people, but it wasn't until he was almost completely out of earshot that he spoke:

"No. There's nothing left in me that is worth saving."

One week later, Sumire Shouda was sentenced to death for the same reason as her friends before her.

-xox-

"We have another case, Hyuuga. She stood up against our authority just like her friends." He shook his head in disbelief. "They're getting more stupid. And rash. We've never had so much resistance before, but I think they're starting to realize the frivolousness of their actions now that their defiance has been shot down."

Natsume just watched as Persona continued to mutter about the increase of number in the opposing side against their rules, and about the increase in deaths. It was useless, he knew, to fight against Kuonji's reign, but that didn't seem to dispute their actions.

"But we seem to be having a hard time holding up accusations against this one – she had just returned from travel and everyone is questioning how she got convicted so fast when truth be told, Kuonji has wanted her dead for years now ever since…"

Looking away, Natsume tuned out the man's muttering, knowing that no matter what happened, they would find 'proof' in their favor soon enough and this girl would be nothing more than just another name in the list of liable culprits.

"Hyuuga!" Persona snapped suddenly. "This is important, and you know what will happen if you don't oblige to your duties. I'll give you a free pass for this one, but your sister won't be so lucky next time."

A fire burst out in the middle of the dark room, and Persona immediately stepped back, turning his black eyes onto the turbulent boy whose eyes burned of hatred. "Do not," he said, "threaten my sister again. I do what you ask. I _will_ continue do what you ask, but only if you let her go."

Persona's mouth curled into a sneer. "If we set her free, theirs is no guarantee that you will keep true to your word. Besides, we know you will resume your duties whether we let her go or not for the fact that she _is_ here and she _will_ be harmed if you choose to disobey us. I think I make that clear enough, Hyuuga. Now put out the fire."

Natsume clenched his fists but did as he was told.

"Good. Now this very troublesome girl will be trialed in one month, and in that time, she is kept in one of the basement chambers." Persona tossed a thick file towards the boy and stalked up to the door. "You have two hours before your next training session, Hyuuga. Don't get into another fight, because Kuonji was pissed enough to have to cover up after that Shouda girl."

Then he was gone. Natsume was alone.

And though it was dark and distant and completely cold, he preferred it that way.

Because when he was alone, the only person who was hurt was himself.

-x-

He didn't know what he was doing.

Others didn't know what he was doing. It was clear enough in the guard's eyes when he looked at him that he didn't expect _the_ Natsume Hyuuga to be visiting the dungeons in the middle of the night, and especially not when he was bloody and torn and desperately needed a trip to the hospital.

"H-Hyuuga, what can I do for you?" he asked, throwing his feet off the table.

"I want to see her."

The guard's face dropped. "I'm sorry, but Persona left specific instructions that you aren't able to meet with Aoi and you know for a fact that she isn't located here and please don't kill me but I really can't tell you where because—"

"Not Aoi." Natsume shook his head, both to say 'no' and in almost pity that the guard feared him so much that he resorted to stuttering over a simple phrase. "The new girl. This one." He threw the file Persona had given him hours before on the man's desk and repeated, "I want to see her."

Taking one look at the picture inside the file, the guard fidgeted. He blinked back. He stared and Natsume knew what the man was wondering even though he so obviously tried to keep the questions off his face when he asked, "You want to see this girl?"

"Yes."

"Well, okay then. Persona gave no instructions against this. She's in cell number two hundred and forty-three way in the back—" Before he could even offer to show the way (only out of hospitality, of course, and slight fear), Natsume was already down the poorly lit corridors in a haste that made him blink.

As Natsume disappeared down the maze-like dungeons, the man flipped through the file. He recognized the face. His face contorted into a mask of pity as he looked back down the direction the Burner had gone and sighed. "Natsume…"

Mochiage set the file down and thought of his old friends. His old group. His old life.

"I can't believe they have to meet this way, after all these years."

-x-

The hallways were dark and in some parts, he had to put his hand against the wall to see where he was going. It was almost a certainty that he had been walking down the wrong paths more than once, maybe even the same paths, but not once did he stop. He just kept walking in the dark, trying to find a cell number so far in that it was getting hard to breathe.

Occasionally there would be the lit torch, revealing the numbers carved on the stone walls beside cells than were mostly empty, and he would count the number he passed after that to make sure he didn't miss _her_ captivity. Why they would think to stick a girl in this deep underground was beyond him.

Then again, it was also very clear.

_They don't want her to get away. _

Natsume had only been in the dungeon twice before, which was definitely not enough to understand every single passage there was. It wasn't enough to memorize which turns to take where, which sections kept which criminals, and it definitely wasn't enough to apprehend the reason why there were so many cells when they were only occupied for a few days before the residents disappeared.

There were so many things he just couldn't figure out.

His body ached with the training he had just endured. He had scratches and bruises covering every inch of his body, blood staining his dark clothes and sweat trickling down the back of his neck. But when he had limped back to his room after the three-hour session, something compelled him to _for once_ look at the file Persona had handed him and that's why he was here.

Now that he knew the next victim, he couldn't stop himself from seeing her.

Finally, a torch was lit beside a sign that read '_233'_ and Natsume knew he was close. He started counting.

_234, 235, 236…_

The farther away from the light he went, the darker it became. But he didn't stop counting.

_237, 238, 239…_

It was dark now, but for the first time, he didn't really notice.

_240, 241, 242…_

_Here_. Natsume stopped blindly in front of the cell he knew to be two hundred and forty-three and ran his hand against the wall until it bumped into a hard stick. He instinctively set the torch on fire and the corridor burst into light, his shadow dancing against the wall and a heat starting to emit through the cold.

In the cell, something in the corner moved. It sat up. It rubbed its eyes against the light before raising its head, and Natume was staring into the most familiar shade of hazel that had been imprinted on his memory since he was only five years old.

The girl smiled and lifted a small hand to wave. "Hi, Natsume."

-x-

"You know who she is."

"Of course I do. Why else do you think I want her dead so badly? Do you know what her mother did to me? She _cursed_ me. That evil bitch Yuka cursed me, and now for twelve hours a day I'm stuck looking like a child!"

"But she's dead now, Kuonji. Why didn't the spell wear off?"

"How I am supposed to know? How the _hell_ should I know how an evil witch works?"

"You know she's not actually a w—"

"It doesn't _matter, _Persona. I have a hunch and I think it has something to do with the fact that her daughter is alive and has obviously inherited her power. We kill her, we kill the curse. And after we get rid of this Mikan Sakura, I don't think anyone else would dare defy my authority."

"…She knows Hyuuga."

"I know that as well."

"He knows _her_, Kuonji. You know how difficult he can be when it's his own friends being accused, and we can't be certain that the process will run smoothly if Hyuuga is the one to—"

"Then harden him up. He didn't seem to have such a hard time setting fire to those other two girls, and any of the accused before that. This one shouldn't be any different. Besides, Hyuuga needs to get used to the fact that this job will forever be his – whether he likes it or not."

"Of course."

"Persona, the trial holds on the twenty-seventh of November. We have one month – plenty of time. Much more than I'd like, actually, but it can't be helped. This girl has friends everywhere and getting rid of her is going to be nothing more than a chore with a challenge. Run the date by Hyuuga. We start preparations tomorrow."

"Yes, Kuonji."

Anyone could hear the doubt in his voice.

-x-

"_You_."

He clenched his fists at his side and stared motionlessly back at the girl sitting in the far corner of the empty cell. Her brown hair was the same chestnut it had always been though much longer than the shoulder length she had kept it at when they were five; her eyes still that sparkling mixture of green and gold, wide and innocent as a child's.

And most of all, her voice was still high, light, and soft as a bell as she chirped, "It's me, Natsume. I'm actually kinda surprised you remembered."

"You," he said again. "It's you."

"Of course it is. Who else did you expect to find if you came this far into the menacing _Dungeon_? Ooooh!" She laughed lightly at her ridiculous impression of a ghost and Natsume froze. "Remember when we were little and used to wonder what was really down here? We used to make up the silliest theories of what they kept in cells like this." She wrinkled her nose. "Can't say I'm exactly impressed with housekeeping."

"You," Natsume started, "are about the stupidest girl I have ever met in my life. How can you make jokes at a time like this? How can you laugh right now when the next victim is you?" He slammed his fist against the wall and the fire flickered. "How can you possibly not be afraid of _me_?"

The small brunette was silent as Natsume stared at her with unrelenting red eyes, and in the midst of his calculation, he realized that she was such a tiny thing. Mikan Sakura may have been sixteen just like him, but he could picture the way his fingers would overlap if they ever encased her twig-like wrists, and saw how her frail arms pushed herself up as she walked towards the bars.

Suddenly she was in front of him. Natsume instinctively backed away, and it was rewarded with the look of hurt that passed across her face.

_Good_, he thought bitterly. _She hurt me in the past – I think it's about time I return the favor. _

She reached out as if to hold onto the bar only to yank it back as soon as she made contact. "Owieeee," she pouted, putting her scorched fingers to her lips. "To think that you witch hunters use magic to keep us locked in – ironic, isn't it?"

Funny, no one before her had ever questioned how they managed to keep the accused magic-users in the cells. Then again, Mikan had always been the type to look at the obvious and strange and find a way to explain them in a way that was almost lucid. It was one of the things he had always like about her.

"Get back." In spite of his commands, Natsume was the one who withdrew a step. "Stay back."

Behind the bars, Mikan's smile dropped. "Natsume…"

"And don't," he snapped harshly, "call me that. Only my friends can, and you – you will never be my friend."

He tried not to notice the way she flinched at his words and plowed on.

"You left. You left just after my parents died, just after everything went from alright to completely horrible, and the one person I wanted to talk to just up and went. Just like that. Six years, Mikan. Six, freaking long, hellish years I waited and _you never came back_." Natsume glared, his adrenaline being the only thing that allowed him to take that step forward. "What makes you think I want you back now?"

"Nothing." Mikan shook her head. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she slumped back onto the cold, hard floors, and the small, dirty white gown spread like a wedding dress across the floor, making her look like the angel she would never be. Not anymore. "I never expected you'd forgive me. You have every reason not to—"

"The hell I do!"

A sad laugh escaped her lips and though she didn't look up, Natsume knew her eyes were wet. "But I just want you to know – I never did leave you. Those words I told you the night before I disappeared?"

"The ones that didn't even warn me that you were going?" he retorted maliciously.

"You really don't remember do you?" she said softly. "What I said? You don't remember it at all?"

Natsume stepped back, racking his brain for any memory of that last night they had spent together. He remembered their cherry blossom tree and a cloudless night stained with stars. He remembered lying on the grass underneath it, hands clasped together like they were long-time lovers. He _didn't_ remember exactly what she said – saw her lips move but couldn't decipher the words—

"It's okay, I guess," she sighed, turning away from him. And though he knew it was wrong, knew it was selfish and completely out of the question, the one though on his mind right then was, _Oh no you don't. This time it isn't going to be _you_ who turns away from _me_._

Already halfway down the corridor, he was barely able to catch the words Mikan said even though the silence was thin.

"Just know this, Natsume: those words will always ring true. Always."

The torch flickered. Everything went black.

-xox-

"Hotaru-chan," Nonoko cried, throwing herself at the girl as soon as the door opened. "Hotaru-chan, it's just horrible! Everything is just horrible! It – it – _I_—"

"Come in, Ogasawara, before you draw a crowd."

Sniffling, the navy-haired girl stepped through the doorway, following as the inventor as she stalked into the house that had forever been hers. It was neat, small, and completely organized – it matched Hotaru perfectly.

And she never left it.

"What is it?" Hotaru asked monotonously, taking the seat across from Nonoko in the living room.

Nonoko tried to blink back the already pouring tears before collapsing like a heap on the ground, her sobs growing more pronounced by the second. "A-Anna is gone! She's _dead_! She was accused of witchcraft all because she was upset that some people were making fun of Koko and automatically burst out that it was all Kuonji's fault and so—"

She sobbed even more but Hotaru's only move at comfort was tossing a box of tissues her way.

"And I didn't stand up for her! I just sat there and watched her burn because I was too scared to do anything!" Nonoko grabbed a handful of tissues and held them to her face, as if it took more than that to calm the tears. "It was horrible! _I'm_ horrible. I always knew she was braver than me, but it wasn't until then that I realized how much."

Hotaru watched silently as one of the most intelligent, well-thought girls she had ever known wailed again and again in a way that was almost heartbreaking. To make her that upset – she wondered what kind of monster could do such a thing.

Not that she voiced out that thought. Instead, she said, "Was it Hyuuga?"

Her head bobbed once.

"Then I'll kill him now."

"Wait – Hotaru, no!" Nonoko jumped up to grab the girl's arm as if she had made a move in the first place and pulled her down, her head shaking rapidly. "You can't! Subaru-kun put you on house arrest for a reason! People were starting to suspect you as a witch and none of us want to lose another friend. No!" Her grip tightened and her head bounced side to side. "I won't let you go!"

"Do you expect me to just sit here?" Hotaru snapped back. The girl was so shocked by her sudden outburst that she instinctively dropped the arm she was caging. "As they pick off _you_ guys, one by one, am I supposed to sit back and do nothing to help?"

"Hota—"

"It's been three years since I've ever been able to step out of my house, all because my stupid brother was worried about the bad eyes that were watching me, and the only reason I stayed here like a caged animal was because of this." She thrust out a finger at the wall where a framed piece of paper, old and wrinkled, was hanging at the wall. "Because Mikan sent that letter making me promise that I'll listen to my idiotic doctor of a brother." Her eyes were colder and her fists clenched. The emotionless Hotaru Imai was gone as she mused darkly, "And I had said it'd be the end of the world when I ever listened to Mikan Sakura."

Nonoko watched breathlessly as her friend got up and walked to the door. She had nothing to say to that; she knew how much Hotaru despised being kept here, being brought supplies by the very friends who made her promise to stay. She knew that having to rely on others for food and not having the chance to step out of her home was something Hotaru didn't like one bit.

"I'm going, Ogasawara," she said, almost softly. "I can't hide forever."

The door was opened before Nonoko regained control of her mouth. "Wait!" She stumbled to get to the irritated girl at the door, remembering the real reason she had come in that day. Remembering the real news. "Wait!"

"What? You can't stop me."

She shook her head. "I know." She took a deep breath. "I won't. I just needed to tell you that Mikan-chan is back – she returned to Alice. She's in town right now."

"Then I have to see her. Where is she?"

"You can't, Hotaru-chan."

"Why not?" she asked impatiently. "Why can't I see my best friend after six years?"

"It's not that I don't want you to because I really miss her too and—"

"Then _why not_?"

Nonoko shook her head again. Her bottom lip quivered as she whispered the three words Hotaru didn't expect to hear: "Because she's convicted."

-xox-

Natsume was walking around through town when it happened.

He made these trips through the borough every so often, even though he knew all too well that he wasn't wanted there. Some people would shoot him dirty looks for the bad things they had watched him do; some would cower in fear and he often drew screams from the young children who gazed into his blood red eyes.

Most, though, just made extra sure not to make contact with him at all.

Crowds parted in his wake. People kept their heads down. Natsume was walking though a path completely empty as if there were a force field around him that repelled life of any sort. No one tried to break the bubble. No one dared until—

_BAKA! _

The impact of the compressed air sent him back a few steps but he never lost his ground. His expression, however, was the slightest bit surprised. "Imai? I thought you were—"

_BAKA! BAKA BAKA BAKA BAKA! _

He glared. "What _the hell_ is wrong with you?"

"You idiot." Hotaru hiked up her weapon and pointed it directly at his face, as everyone around them scattered and whispered.

"_How can she dare talk to him like that?" _

"_What is she thinking?" _

"_Wait, is that Hotaru Imai?" _

"_I thought she was gone! She's a witch, I tell you, a witch!" _

_Witch. Witch. Witch._

_BAKA!_ The crowd silenced. Hotaru turned back to Natsume with hate filling her usually stoic purple eyes. "You idiot," she said again. "You idiotic _bastard_. She wasn't supposed to come back. She isn't supposed to be here. There's only one reason that she would even _think_ about returning to Alice and now that very thing is the reason she'll be _dead_?"

"What are you talking about?" he shot back, actually dodging the next blow in his fury. "She left without cause and now she's back. Aren't you happy? Wouldn't you be glad that after a fucking long time, she finally decides to come out of hiding?"

"_Glad_?" Hotaru shot a few more blows, only to miss completely, and so she just tossed the small gun aside and pulled out a huge canon from her seemingly bottomless pockets. "Glad that she's about to be killed? Glad that all our efforts are going to waste because _you_ decide to be selfish?"

"Don't pin this on me, Imai—"

"I thought you were better than that, Hyuuga." She dropped the canon and shook her head. "I thought that if _anyone_ deserved Mikan, it would be you." Hotaru stared back at Natsume with nothing more than disappointment shown in the deep pools of violet. "I was wrong. For the first time in judgment, I was wrong."

And she turned her back to him, to the other gasping villagers, and to all her friends who watched, horrified, after her as she walked away without a second glance.

Within the next twenty-four hours, Hotaru had somehow broken through the Alice security and was already out of town.

-x-

Natsume lay staring at the plain steel of his room's ceiling that night with only one thing on his mind.

He couldn't get what Hotaru had said out of his head, about how everything was his fault; how Mikan's leave, return, and ordered execution were all his blame to take. How was that even possible? She had left without a hint that she was going. She had returned to Alice without a warning beforehand. And now she had been convicted for a reason Natsume didn't even know.

None of that was in the file Persona had given him.

Oh, how he wished it was.

_Talk to her_, a voice inside him suggested. _Talk to her, and you'll find everything you need to know._

_No_, another voice argued. _What makes you think she wants to talk to you now, after all the things you said to her? You're much better off just ignoring her – you are only making it harder for yourself because you have to kill her anyways—_

_Don't say that! He can very well—_

_Very well what? Kill her _quickly_ so he doesn't have to watch? _

_That's not what I—_

"I'm going." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he knew for sure that he had gone mad. Talking to himself? When did _the_ Natsume Hyuuga subject to such a crazy act?

Then again, when did _the_ Natsume Hyuuga ever subject to killing just because he was told to?

That decided it.

_I'm going_. He didn't say it aloud this time, but it seemed like just repeating it to his bantering thoughts was enough to finalize his decision. Before he knew it, he was walking down the streets towards the almost abandoned dungeons located miles underground.

Nodding once at the doorman, Mochiage, Natsume booked it down the halls. It wasn't until he passed the number 243 carved into the wall that he realized that he was at his destination, without any wrong turns or even a moment passed. It wasn't until he could see the hunched figure in darkness that he realized he had already lit the torch.

"Mikan."

Her head didn't swerve at the sound of his voice. She didn't look up, didn't smile, didn't wave as she hugged her knees closer to her chest and said quietly, "I didn't think you were going to come today."

Natsume waited for her to crack another unnecessary joke like she had the other day, only to be oddly disappointed. Mikan didn't say a word as he stood tall on the other side of the bars, both in a clear state of unhappiness. He didn't know what to say, didn't expect anything, and even though he had millions of questions bubbling up inside him, he unconsciously knew that it wasn't the time to ask them.

That was fine. He didn't want to hear the answers.

So instead of saying anything else, he slumped against the wall opposite of her cell, watching the still figure with an almost intense calculation. Her breathing was stifled as if she was trying to hold it in, and her back was hunched over her knees, her red-white dress spilling around her like a waterfall—

_Wait_. _But she…_ Natsume's red eyes widened and in mere seconds he was in front of the untouchable bars studying Mikan's body more closely. _That's_…

"Dammit, Mikan, you're hurt!" he shouted, brushing slightly against the bars in his haste. He winced at the shock that ran through him but it didn't lighten his glare. When Mikan didn't look up, he was threatened by another burn on the hand that shot out. "You idiot! Get over here so I can help you!"

"I'm fine, Natsume." Her voice was small, shaky, muffled.

"No, you're not!" Anger flaring, he threw himself against the bar once more, but this time the burn that christened his skin was so painful that he grunted and fell back.

At the sound of his drop, Mikan automatically lifted her head and started to go to him to make sure he was alright, pushing herself up off the cold grounds, but she suddenly collapsed forward, her pants growing more pronounced.

"Mikan—" He froze.

Five feet in front of him, separated only by a row of charmed bars, the girl tried relentlessly to get back up, pushing at the ground that seemed to be pulling her down with fresh blood tricking down the seams of her dress. The red poured like a persistent rapid, and with each drop that spilled, Mikan only gasped louder. Her face was marred with many cuts and purplish bruises, as well as her arms and legs that had long given up on her.

She looked _horrible_.

His own pain pushed aside, Natsume raced up as close as he could possibly get and reached between the small gap, careful not to make contact with the bars, and held it out to her. "Mikan," he urged, "get over here. I need to see how bad your wounds are."

But the moment he his hands brushed her skin, she let out a deafening cry and yanked herself roughly back. She stared at the ground, hands clenched, gaze unfocused, and her teeth biting on her bottom lip to keep from screaming again. He winced.

"Mikan, I—"

"Just go." A gasp quickly followed her words, but she quickly held it in. "Just go, Natsume, I-I'm fine," she gritted out, lifting her gaze to meet his. "Please, I can't—I can't…" She drew in a ragged breath and whispered, "Please, Natsume."

Seeing the pain so evident in her big, expressive eyes, seeing the way she so obviously tried to hold it in, Natsume had to fight hard against the bickering voices in his head to think clearly of the right decision to make.

The next few moments passed by in a blur.

Faintly, he heard himself choke out a, "I'll be right back," before the stone hallways were rushing past him, his feet pounding the floors like a hammer on wood. Even though he was out of there in seconds, it didn't stop him from hearing the screams that echoed loudly down the now-black hallways from behind him, or the images of her lying bloodied on the ground from passing through his head.

"Natsume," Mochiage said, surprised as the frantic teen appeared from around the corner. "I-I mean, Hyuuga. Are you alright?"

"Bandages," he panted, throwing his hands on the desk. "I need bandages. Fast. A first aid kid and lots of bandages."

"What's wrong—"

"Now's not the time, Mochu," he snapped. When the boy behind the table winced, Natsume lightened his tone, though the urgency was still clearly displayed. "I need bandages."

"Bandages?" Mochu eyed his friend before a look of understanding passed across his face. "Oh. Alright, I'll be right back." He disappeared into the back room without another question.

When he returned, Natsume hastily grabbed at the package and turned back to the dungeon entrance, when his friend's voice stopped him.

"Hey, Hyuuga."

"What?" he asked impatiently, still edging towards the threshold.

"Don't be mad at her."

He stopped. "What?"

"Mikan," he replied without even as much as a blink. "That's who you're going to help isn't it? She's hurt. And there's no one else on this Earth that you'd get so tied up over." The thought almost made him smile.

Natsume opened his mouth to deny it, but the girl's screams still echoed in his ears and he was much too tired from running that he just let out a sigh and turned away. Then something dawned on him. "Wait, how did you know she was hurt?"

Mochu's face dropped. "Oh, well… Persona dropped in. To see her. And you know that he doesn't really have any other reason to visit a convict than _persuasion_." His eyes were regretful. "I wanted to stop him; after all, Mikan was the nicest girl ever back in grade school. I _really_ wanted to stop him. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." That was all Natsume could think to say, as he turned once again away from his old friend and towards the darkness of the corridor, blind even though with a slight flick of the wrist, he wouldn't be.

But he chose to face the darkness. He was choosing to go back to her, to see her, to help her, even after how she had abandoned him too many years before. He didn't have to—he could've walked away, never seeing her until the day of the conviction.

But he didn't.

Strangely enough, it wasn't a hard decision to make. When it came to her, it never was.

So maybe it was that thought which compelled him to pause to add, "Call me Natsume," before disappearing once more.

Behind him, Mochu smiled. Watched. Then sighed a deep sigh, knowing all too well what it was like to lose someone he cared about.

Seeing the ending of this love story before it had even begun.

It took Natsume less time to reach her cell this round than the first, the path strangely imprinted on his brain in a way he knew he would never forget. She was still on the ground, her dress still soaked in blood, but her breathing was less labored and she was almost scarily still.

"Mikan?"

She looked up. Relief pelted his heart, so overwhelming to see her bright eyes, tired but no longer in agony, that he wanted nothing more to hold her in his arms—if only the bars were gone. He'd be gone as well.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, dropping down to crouch by where she was sitting. They met eye to eye but she said nothing. He slid the thick package under the wider hole that was probably meant to be for food, but she made no move to get it. She didn't react at all. Her eyes were completely blank. "Mikan—"

"I'm fine." Seeing his doubtful face, she amended, "I'm fine _now_. Really, Natsume, I shouldn't have worried you like that. I'm sorry."

_Why does everyone keep apologizing to me for things that are obviously not theirs to control?_ It was ridiculous, really. "Don't," he said aloud. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either."

He snorted. "Wrong." _It's all my fault. I'm the reason that Yome is gone, that Umenomiya and Shouda died, as well as countless other innocent people. The reason Ruka can no longer live in Alice and why Imai had to flee from this country. The reason Aoi has probably never seen the day in over six years. And apparently the reason you're going to die as well._

The thought made him choke up slightly, and he pulled away from her stares to avoid letting the anxiety take over his body completely. He had already forgiven her even though he made that entire speech days earlier that he never would. The last thing he needed was to make her think he was weak now, too.

"You're not weak," she said suddenly, as if reading his mind. "And this is definitely not your fault. Don't tell me it's just because I haven't been here for so long and don't know what you've done, because I do. And don't," she added before he could say anything, "think that I'm stupid not to be mad. Because I am. Just not at you."

"You're—"

"Crazy? Probably, Natsume, but I've never claimed otherwise."

He growled, half in disbelief, half in vigilant anger. "You're unbelievable. The same naïve girl that you've always been."

Mikan smiled a small, weary smile. "And you're still the same annoying, overprotective, easily provoked idiot that I've always loved."

Sometimes it was scary how she always knew the right things to say at the right moments.

She shifted slightly, and Natsume could see now that she was no longer gushing blood. Her white dress was still stained and the red was dry and crisp on her skin, but the deep marks on her face and arms were gone, replaced only with light white scars that flitted under the dim firelight.

"_She's a healer," _he remembered Mikan's uncle Kazu saying to him, just before he passed away of some sudden disease. _"A multi-user. Special. Her powers are greater than mine, than yours, and even her mother before her. People will target her and want to make her power their own. Maybe they'll just want her dead for the sake of her differences. No matter what the case, I want you to protect her, Hyuuga. I expect that you'll do nothing less."_

_You expected wrong, old man_, Natsume thought with a resentment that was surprisingly weak. At this moment, he couldn't bring himself to hate anyone, and especially not the girl who sat in front of him, whose fatigue seemed to pass easily onto him.

"You used your powers, didn't you?"

She didn't deny it.

"That's just stupid," he said, "Those charms are there for a reason, and it should be impossible to even use a little bit of your powers, to spark the slightest of magic. You're just killing yourself even more, and you know it! Why are you so stupid, Mikan? Are you really that ready to die?"

"No one wants to die, Natsume," she said softly. "They can tell themselves that it's alright, that everything's gonna be fine, that they're ready to face death, but no one _craves_ an end, no matter how tragic the story. It's just—"

BANG!

Mikan flinched at the sound of his fist pounding against the floor, so loud that it echoed hollowly down the hallways; Natsume only glared with a flaring indignation.

"Stop," he growled, "talking about your life like it's just another tragic tale. Stop speaking metaphors and all these stupid cryptic notions! You can act like your life doesn't matter to you, but it does to me, Mikan. It does to me!" His hand came down on the floor again, and again it echoed. "If you're not ready to die, then just say so!"

"Natsume," Mikan said, reaching out. But he was on his feet, the air heating around him, little fires swirling the air in the haste, using up oxygen. Mikan coughed a little and rose closer to the bars. "Natsume! Natsume, stop!"

"No!"

The fires grew larger, flames flickering on the stone in a way that should've been unattainable, and Mikan choked on the amount of lessened air and increased smoke. But Natsume wasn't listening to her calls and reasoning – he was completely lost in fury, the flames only mimicking his thoughts.

"Natsume!"

She stumbled towards the line of charmed metal poles sticking up from the dirt and cement. The fire grew hotter; the tips of her dress caught flame. She her a sleeve to her mouth but didn't back up.

"Natsume—"

The next moment seemed to move in slow motion.

Her hand shot out and she flung herself against the bars, reaching between the burning iron to grab onto his arm. Purplish burns marked her skin and sparks were flying wildly where she made contact with the metal, yet she didn't even react to the pain like most would've. Her eyes were completely for Natsume.

"Stop it!" Now she was completely pressed up against the bars to reach far out to where he had retreated until her arms were finally long enough to grab at his wrist. "Stop it!"

The fire immediately disappeared. No light was shining. No flames were flickering within miles of their exact location, nullified from the core. It was silent, save for the pants coming from the sole two beings in the entire dungeon.

One collapsed. The other was frozen to the spot, horrified at the mess that was completely his fault.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, _no_," he cursed, dropping to the ground. "Dammit, Mikan, tell me you're still alive there. Don't you dare die on me right now! If you're strong enough to survive a visit with Persona, you can definitely survive this." When she didn't move, when her burns seemed to glow in the dark, his voice turned to panic. "Come on, Mikan, _please_! I'm not ready to lose you a second time!"

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He slammed his fist down on the ground beside where she had dropped like a rag doll, all energy drained from her – and although he knew that it was the purpose of the charm, he believed more than ever that it was horrible. "Mikan, please wake up!"

Silence. Then—

A tremor ran through her body and she coughed. The sound was choked and obviously painful, but Natsume found himself relieved beyond words that he had gotten any response out of her at all, and his intense gratification was probably completely exposed on his face – but he didn't care.

"Natsume," Mikan started to say, only to be cut off by a sharp cough. He hovered as close as he could but the next words out of her mouth were the last ones he expected to hear: "Y'know, I never thought I'd ever hear you say please."

He didn't even have to choke back a growl.

"I almost killed you." His voice was lifeless and horrified at the same time. Only _he_ could pull off the unlikely combination.

"But you didn't, Natsume."

"I almost killed you."

"It's not your fault. You wouldn't have hurt me."

"You almost died at my hand," he seethed, "and all you have to say is that it's not my fault?" To this, she didn't answer. "Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me that it wasn't my fault, Mikan. Tell me that, and I'll know what a liar you've become. Because you can't honestly say that I won't hurt you when, in no more than two weeks, you'll be burned at the stake by _my_ Alice, _my_ fire, and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it!"

He was shouting now, but the harshness of his words, the reality of it, didn't faze her.

"You're going to die, Mikan, because of me," he said, vision turning blurry. His cheeks were wet but he didn't care anymore. Not about showing weakness to the girl he never thought he'd forgive, or about his stupid reputation that didn't allow tears.

All he had done for the past few moments he had seen her was yell, but now his voice was quiet.

"I've killed before. Friends. _Best_ friends. Maybe not directly, but all of their deaths – every single one – will always be on my hands. They burn because they defend me, accept it because they know it's either them or myself, and smile at me before they die just to let me know that they aren't mad." His fists clenched, and suddenly it wasn't just Mikan he was talking about, but another forever lost, comedic friend. "He's gone because of me."

"I know." Mikan brushed a hand against her forehead and in a second of flashing lights, the burns on her arms were gone. A smile graced her dry lips, small and sad. "I miss Koko too."

He made a choked noise and slumped to the ground. Mikan didn't say a thing as he wept, only sat back on the other side of the bars, comforting him simply with her presence.

Because in a few weeks, Mikan would be dead, too. No one would be there to speak comforting words to him then.

He might as well get used to it.

* * *

Once again, Happy Birthday to **Fallen Jewels** and there's a piece of cake for anyone who PMs her tonight just to wish her the best (and to annoy her, but that's just a plus ;D)!

-Starlight Curse


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